Meatpacking Plant
Meatpacking Plant
Underage, she worked
under her sister’s name
for months,
metal fingerguard sweating, nearly mis-
slicing when the managers, all men, sidled up behind,
hot breath
at her hairnet,
chortling over
the blood in her cheeks–
sure that they could tell.
A year after leaving, needing something temp, she applied again
as herself,
explaining that she had, in fact,
experience.
They kept their distance
showing her out.
************************************
Here’s a little poem for Mama Zen’s prompt on With Real Toads With Real Toads to write something for Boss Day in 67 words or less. (This is 66 minus title–sorry, MZ.) It is a true story of my mother working as a young girl during the Depression at a meatpacking plant, posing as her older sister because she was not old enough herself to work.
I’m sure that it was a pork packing plant, but I have this picture of a cow ready, and it’s such an innocent little cow, it seemed somehow appropriate.
Explore posts in the same categories: iPad art, poetry, UncategorizedTags: cute cow, Great Depression, manicddaily, Meatpacking Plant poem, stay two steps back poem, underage worker poem
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ManicDDaily 
October 17, 2013 at 8:31 am
There is a whole story here, a slice of history, and all managed in under 70 words. I was transported to another time and place.
October 17, 2013 at 9:11 am
Thanks, Kerry. k.
October 17, 2013 at 9:34 am
Interesting to be turned down as yourself…and working in a packing plant would take something I haven’t got, for sure. But the poem perhaps hits on the essence of the difference between ‘work’ and ‘career,’ as well as the inherent, impossible to separate hidden currents that some bosses exude around women/other minorities.
October 17, 2013 at 9:55 am
I think she was turned down as herself because they realized then that she had involved them in child labor violations and didn’t particularly want to have more to do with her! Crazy though. I had a line I had to cut due to the word count, but she answered to his sister’s name all the time she was there. That must have been strange. k.
On Thu, Oct 17, 2013 at 10:34 AM, ManicDDaily
October 18, 2013 at 2:39 pm
Or maybe it made her feel like there was a cushion between her and them–I used to wear a nametag that said Rita when I waited tables for just that reason–protective coloration, I suppose.
October 18, 2013 at 2:45 pm
Good idea! And then there are blog names, such as they are. k.
October 17, 2013 at 9:37 am
The calf is perfect. Girl/heifer ready for sacrificial rite — Those guys who prey on innocents don’t want anyone who knows their game. Good story.
October 17, 2013 at 10:16 am
not easy work at all…and working conditions there could not have been the best either…everyone out of work you are really expendable as well..def child labor was different too..interesting to be turned away trying to be yourself…
October 17, 2013 at 10:28 am
perfectly captured vignette, K
October 17, 2013 at 11:48 am
…I have a feeling their were a few “crimes” they could be charged with… sigh
October 17, 2013 at 12:26 pm
Brilliantly done. Love the understatement in the close.
October 17, 2013 at 1:35 pm
Thanks, MZ. k.
October 17, 2013 at 1:07 pm
Awful place to work, and an awe-filled poem…the things women had to do during tough times.
There’s a meatpacking plant about an hour west of here, and even with all the modern technology, the odor can be smelled for miles. Not a place I’d ever work. I wouldn’t even want to live in that town.
K
October 17, 2013 at 1:35 pm
Agreed. k.
October 17, 2013 at 6:04 pm
I am mesmerized by your artwork … and your poetry!
October 17, 2013 at 10:05 pm
My mother worked at a meat packing plant…she hated it. So creative to open a page in history and let us peek in and “see” so much through your words.
October 18, 2013 at 9:45 am
I admire her courage and pluck.
My hometown in western Iowa is home to a large meat packing plant. We took career field trips to experience the activity inside. The combination of pink mess and male pride is stuck in my memory.
I couldn’t do it. I don’t think I took one breath during the field trip. You aptly capture subtle and not-so subtle human interactions in this poem. The blood in her cheeks a very nice touch.
I adore your calf illustration. It lightens the mood considerably. : )
October 18, 2013 at 9:47 am
Thanks, Jane. This all happened in Iowa, in fact. k.
On Fri, Oct 18, 2013 at 10:46 AM, ManicDDaily
October 24, 2013 at 10:37 pm
A spirited mother then, but sad for her and sad for the cow.